


fate will rule you

by thyme (mars_lave)



Series: Murphy's Law [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Hurt No Comfort, Whump, bthb : verbal abuse, im a bitch to arrie, who's suprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mars_lave/pseuds/thyme
Summary: It was the beating of their heart, Rae’s voice, they were a person, fuck. They had things, they had the stuffed bear Rae gave them. That was theirs, no one touched it, no one took it. It was a sign of their sentience and humanity, tools didn’t need to have objects. Didn’t crave them and love them. A tool didn’t care.Or I break Arrie for funsies
Relationships: Ian Murphy and Arrie O'Brian
Series: Murphy's Law [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157561





	fate will rule you

**Author's Note:**

> i am... sorry
> 
> CW: Low self esteem, dissociation (kind of?), verbal abuse, this is really fucking brutal ngl, hurt/no comfort

Another mistake. Another fuck up to add to the ever - increasing pile of fumbles. They couldn’t afford mistakes, slip ups were fatal. Their fall was eerily similar to those prior, history repeated itself weather or weather not they recognized the pattern. Arrie fell back into the comfort of their infallibicy like a habit; think procrastinating or pinching your wrists because it didn’t work quite as well but still resembled the feeling of a blade. 

It was all the same, all fast moving and panicked then a subtle calm. Choking as the adrenaline was washed away and fog clogged up their orifices, maneuvering the limbs to step forward and dodge and obey. 

It’d never been as thick, the fog, as it had been prior to Murphy - _ don’t think about that, not allowed, not allowed -  _ a thin sheet over the real world was their only experience to grasp at. This was all surrounding, numbing in a way that terrified them. It was easier to sink into its gentle hold than to succumb to the ever present threat pushing around their neck and mumbling into their ears.

Honey, lukewarm and sticky, it poured over their wounds and clung, encasing the memory in an ever present melt. Golden scars that never got to heal, for they were wrong and constantly so. Knives tugged at the gold smooth as butter. One day, they felt the cuts would stop healing.

They’d give up and bleed until their veins ran dry and they were thoroughly empty. There’d be nobody left to collapse from, a corpse left rotting by its’ inability to perfect the actions they so carefully practiced.

Arrie hadn’t even realized their mistake this time, at first. Perhaps it was the fog or the way exhaustion seemed to ingrain itself, weighing down on every cell as if it had a personal vendetta. They’d been quiet, unassuming as they walked through the building. They worked hard, they  _ remembered _ the training. The turtleneck pressing against them helped, it was reminiscent of the collar they wore when not on missions. And the threats of its’ return if Arrie didn’t follow such training through. If they made enough mistakes.

It was the first thing to return when they got back.

When you mess up enough, it forms into not just making mistakes but being a problem. Murphy and Rae stamped out problems at the slightest hint of them coming alive. 

Or they used to, at least. 

Murphy had noticed this build up of mistakes, they could tell from the harshness of his instructions and additional insults. His lack of action scared them more than anything, just as their mistakes had, his anger would build up. A lack of punishments was not mercy, it was a forewarning. 

Rae stopped him from doing much, they heard their voice, tugging Murphy away from Arrie’s room in the evenings with a tone that resembled something akin to protectiveness. 

Despite its poor source, their tone was grounding. Rae’s concern towards them was a lifeline, it burned through their throat all sour and allowed them to confirm that they were still here. They were still a person, their veins hadn’t run dry. Not yet. 

It was the beating of their heart, Rae’s voice, they were a person,  _ fuck _ . They had things, they had the stuffed bear Rae gave them. That was theirs, no one touched it, no one took it. It was a sign of their sentience and humanity, tools didn’t need to have objects. Didn’t crave them and love them. A tool didn’t care.

Murphy was right on a lot of things, but he was wrong on that part. They were his, partially, but they were also their own. Through the training, they could remember that the hurt they felt was their own. Maybe Murphy caused it but it was their nerves who screamed out. Their racing heart, their life.

They could feel it strongly now, pulsing so fast that it shook their entire body with tremors akin to the ones they’d get after having to use the collar. This was a big mission, and they’d fucked it up.

Rae’s care couldn’t protect them anymore. Maybe they stopped caring after this, Arrie was no longer useful. No longer loveable if they’d failed all their past missions. It was hard to focus, maybe they weren’t being punished but the sparing they’d do with Murphy still  _ hurt, _ their entire torso was bruised a yellow from his touch. Rae hadn’t used their powers as much on them but everytime they did it seemed to send Arrie sinking into that surrounding numbness.

They didn’t know why Rae insisted on bringing up memories of before Murphy when they were strictly not allowed to think about them. All they knew was that it hurt in a different way then being hit or electrocuted did. In a way that made them tear up, throat too full to cry and head too full of memories too fleeting to decipher; the only tangible thing being the deep yearning and ache that ripped through their chest at the thought of such memories.

They had the bear now, he helped. Arrie had predictability at least, they’d always go back to their room at night, no matter what. And now, instead of just a too cold bed, they had a bear. One they could hold and bury their face in, run their fingers across and focus on the softness of his fur instead of the aches. 

If they could, they’d stay in their room all day long and just hold him. There was a sort of steadiness in it, a safety. It was a break for them to collapse without having to fall into numbness. It was  _ theirs _ . They didn’t have to be anyone’s during that time. Not a tool, not Murphy’s or Rae’s. Just Arrie, holding a stuffed bear and being okay.

The bear in question sat in their lap now, though, no matter how much they cradled him, a calm didn’t set it. They sat in front of the door, looking up in the way that Ian liked - all wide eyed, attention focused on him. He’d let them shower and change, not wanting them to ‘bleed all over the place’. He’d be coming soon. 

Arrie piled the bear back into their arms and pressed their check to it.  _ It was okay, they’d be okay. It’d be over with by the morning and they’d be okay. They could go back to their room after and hug the bear and it’d be okay _ . Just had to focus on that. 

A footstep from outside shook them to awareness. They let go of the bear and stood up straight, shoving their shaking hands behind their back as if to hide the nervousness that seeped from their every pore.

The door cracked open, the hinges quiet as all was in the warehouse. All was nothing but the weight of Murphy’s anger radiating off him. He exhaled twice before speaking up, all sharp and furied. “Do you know how much you’ve cost us?”

Arrie nodded, they knew,  _ they knew _ . They had to be quiet as the warehouse, Murphy hated the noise of any voice other than his own. He’d trained their noise out of them, locking them only to exist in whispered words in their mind. It was shameful to speak when you had nothing of value to say. And when you were nothing of value, you weren’t permitted to speak.

“Where is this disobedience coming from?” he asked, and no, they weren’t disobeying - they were trying so hard. Why couldn’t he understand that? They wouldn’t break the rules. 

They couldn’t speak either,  _ be good _ . So instead they shook their head as if to signal the falsehood of his sentence.

“I think we’ve been too easy on you,” Murphy stepped forward. Arrie tensed, “Letting too many mistakes slip.”

Arrie nodded, he was right, they had been letting lots of things go. Their hands shook harder from behind their back. 

He walked behind them, they forced themself not to move, only listening to his footsteps as they circled their tense form. He picked something up,  _ don’t look, don’t look _ .

“You’re a tool, enjoyment or comfort is not something required for you to work,” the bedsheets shifted.  _ Don’t react. _ He walked back around, the bear clutched in his hands. Arrie’s heart stopped for a second.

“You don’t need shit like this,” he dug his fingernails into the bear, tugging, tugging and ripping off pieces of its fur, “This is bullshit, we’ve been treating you too nice. You don’t  _ need _ any of this!” He pulled at the bear’s arm,  _ hard _ enough that they both heard the clear tear of fabric.

Without quite knowing what they were doing, Arrie lunged forward. They crashed into Murphy and slammed him against the wall in a desperate fit to save the one thing they had left of them. Murphy swatted at them, a yelp of anger and pain erupting from his throat. He grabbed onto their collar, throwing their head to the ground and a knee to their stomach.

Dread choked their every pore,  _ fuck fuck why’d they do that!?  _ He pulled their head back and banged it against the floor again, the pain radiating throughout their brain. They’d already fucked up, they weren’t going to let it be for nothing. 

Arrie kicked at him, scrambling away and grabbing the bear. They pressed themself into the corner, holding it close to their chest and curling around it. He wouldn’t take it, Rae had said it was theirs. Rae didn’t lie - it was theirs, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, they wouldn’t be able to take that.

Murphy stood up,  _ no, no,  _ “You little freak!”  _ Please, just hurt them, don’t take it, please _ . He pulled a remote from his pocket, Arrie’s heart rate shot up. He pressed down and a shock ran through their body, painfully familiar and agonizing. They screamed, holding onto the bear tighter.

The shocks held on, growing more hot and burning against their every atom. Their vision was dotted with black spots. Screams ripped from their throat, raw and mixing with the white hot fire coursing through their every vessel.

“Shut up!” the shock set off, then a slap across their check, “Didn’t we train you to be quiet?” 

They coughed, sobs choking their throat, “You - you can’t take them.”

Murphy starred, eyes unreadable, “And who told you that? Where’s this coming from?”

“Rae said he was mine, you can’t touch it,” their voice was clogged with cries, they tried to push it back.

Another slap to the face, they barely felt it, “He is not  _ yours _ , you are nothing. Nothing cannot own things, nothing is nothing. You are a tool, how many times do I have to say this?!” He gripped at the stuffed animal, “This is not yours. It was never yours, you selfish freak.”

They gripped forward to grab at the stuffed animal, shocks ran through their body again. Arrie shook violently with them. Murphy threw the stuffed animal back, grabbing them with no care for how the shocks would startle off onto him. He ignored the sparks, shoving them against the bed’s frame and pulling off his belt. He wrapped it around them, tying them harshly to the side of the bed. Arrie yelled out, unable to fight back with electricity running through their body as fast and perpetual as their blood.

Murphy grabbed onto the bear, Arrie jerked against the belt. He grabbed a knife from his belt and ripped it through the bear.

Arrie felt part of themself crack, a sorrow ripping deep through their chest like no other.  _ Please, please no, they needed to protect him! They needed to keep him safe, no, no _ .

The stuffing spilled onto the floor, Murphy was uncaring, continuing to tear his knife through the bear with fury shaking through him. Pain blurred Arrie’s vision, everything hurt so much and they just wanted the bear back. They couldn’t even protect him.  _ Please, please. _

The bear fell in pieces onto the floor, unrecognizable from Murphy’s wrath. He took in deep breathes, as if that action was exhausting. Arrie slumped over. They’d never be okay, there was nothing to hold on for, wasn’t there? This was forever, this constant sorrow.

They were nothing, and nothing couldn’t be happy. It just hurt and never stopped because it didn’t deserve to feel anything else other than agony.

They couldn’t do this anymore.

Murphy kicked at the pieces, sighing heavily, “Since you clearly don’t understnad it,” he tapped at the collar, “No more noise. Remember the early days? Since you’re so fucking pathetic, you can’t even remmeber your training we’ll have to redo it.”  
Arrie barley even understood what he was saying, this was it. Nothing more.

He swallowed, “Answer me! Don’t be disrespectful.”

“Y-ye-” a shock jerked through their body, they simply nodded. Back to this. It was easier to just… float, detach from it all. Better. The fog was strong and comforting, not like the bear but similar in the sense that it felt safe. Drawing in its blurriness but empty. Arrie let it thread into them, trying to fall completely into it and let it take them. They didn’t want to be here anymore.  
Murphy nodded, looking a bit uncertain now before pulling the belt off. Arrie didn’t even move, just staring at the pieces of the one thing that brought them joy.

The door slammed shut. 

Moments blurred past them, the room darkening to a deep blue as the small window above their bed’s sunlight faded. They found themself picking up the stuffing and ripped shreds of fur, anxiety peeled through their heart at touching it. It still hurt, it wouldn’t stop hurting.

They pulled the pieces to their chest, similar to how they’d when it was whole. Arrie fell to the floor from their knees, curling around the pieces. They didn’t have the energy to cry. 

They couldn’t stay like this. Murphy would get mad.

So they stood up, fabric and shakiness in their hands. They entered their small bathroom and dumped the remains into the trash can. It over spilled the tiny thing, an improper burial. They had no ground, only a bed with a too-thin blanket and a concrete floor. Instead they sat down on the tile of the bathroom, feeling it and trying to memorize the feel of the smooth floor.

Nothing left. Nothing to gain or lose, fitting in a person such as themself. They were simply a problem with no solution.

The numb that followed was a relief, in some sort of sense. Apathy was their one protection, they’d have to learn to wield it. Let it overtake them and choke their cries and pain down.

Maybe it wasn’t just them making mistakes but being a mistake themself.

Murphy had called them a freak, nothing. They only wished they were the latter completely, invisible and transparent to the pain that seemed to follow them wherever they stepped.

The fog was a gift and unless Murphy killed them, it was the one thing he couldn’t take away.

**Author's Note:**

> i am ashamed of this. also like most of my writing, begining is okay and ending is my desperate attempt to just get it done


End file.
